Seasons
by EE's Skysong
Summary: The same park, the same bench. Six very different people, three very different seasons. Along the lines of Proper Definition. Romy, Jonda, Kiotr. Do review.


Disclaimer: "Only the insane equate success with suffering."

(An: Well, I've been once again bitten with a random bunny, and indulged it and got something surreally romantic... I'm scared. The song lyrics are in **bold**, like that, and are from "I Don't Wanna Know" by New Found Glory.)

Summer...

**The awkward ways we meet...**

She's sitting on the bench, waiting. "For once," she murmurs, eyes closed, "you aren't late."

"Finally got my clock fixed," I respond, sitting down next to her.

She leans back into the sunlight, smiling. She opens one green eye, inspecting me. She closes it again, lazily. "What's it about?"

"What?" I ask. I know what she means, but this has become part of our ritual, the little dance of greeting.

"You. Me. Us."

"Every day you ask that question. Why?"

"Every day you give me a different response. By that, I can judge what you're like today."

It's a reasonable answer, allaying what I've been wondering about since we started these meetings in the park. It's the same reason I ask what to her greeting question. "_D'accord,_" I say, and think about it a minute. "Warmth."

"Explanation...?"

"You. Me. Us. We share it. _People_ share it. The sun is shining. Today, it's about warmth."

She smiles. "Better than most answers."

I move closer.

A smirk flits across her face. I know she noticed, and I know she doesn't mind. A month ago she would've glared, shoved me off the bench, and threatened harm. Now, she smiles. Now she understands me.

_It's amazing how beautiful a smile can be,_ I think.

He slips his arm around my waist. I keep my eyes close, wondering what he'll do next.

"What do _you_ think it's all about?" The question is sudden, abrupt, labeling him as more pensive than I first thought when I saw him.

I open my eyes now and look at him. He's innocuous, enjoying the sun like I was a moment agoo. The corner of his mouth smirks at me. "I like your answer today. It's hot out, but not too much so. It's warm here."

The smirk disappears and a slow smile spreads across his face. He doesn't say anything.

I lean my head on his shoulder, which surprises him, a little.

_So this is what bliss is like,_ I think.

Fall...

**I never cared how I dressed before...**

The trees are orange. Everything is turning fiery.

I sit on a park bench, pretending to read a book. Really, I'm watching him.

He's leaning against a tree, watching the leaves fall. He doesn't know I'm here. When a leaf lands on his head, he smiles with the utter happiness of a child. His eyes are closed. When he opens them, he smiles when he sees me. Then he realizes what he's doing. He stops, and belatedly picks most of the leaves from his hair. He walks over and slides onto the bench. "Hi."

I look over at him, amused. A single leaf remains in his hair, yellow against orange. "Hello."

"Why were you watching me?"

"You're funny."

He frowns. He's my age, but he seems so much younger. Immature. It fits him. Then he shrugs, and smiles again. Just like he always does. "What's funny about enjoying the season?"

"The way you do it is funny. You get so involved in it. You don't care if anyone else is watching," I add, my eyes half-closed. I watch him from under my lashes.

John bites his lip. "You're so mean."

"Why? Because I ask questions?"

"You ask questions that you know will offset people."

"You don't seem to mind," I retort, fiddling with my earrings.

It's true. We meet by accident- although accidents seem to happen more often lately. We dance around each other, neither ever quite sure how to act. I wouldn't give it up for anything.

She drops her hand from her earring. She hesitates, and then picks a leaf from my hair. Somehow it's more intimate than any kiss could be.

Our eyes meet for a moment, then we look away, blush.

After a moment, she speaks. "Why do you like fall?"

I smile, the awkwardness of the moment disappearing. I gesture at the trees and the leaves, gold, orange, and brown. "Guess."

"It _is_ pretty," she admits, a little half-smile on her lips.

I look away again. She's too... _her_ to look at for long. Not without doing something. And that would ruin it.

She looks down, and I see she's still holding the leaf. She gazes at it, then blows it away.

She is a creature of habit. Every day she sits on this bench, this same bench. To escape the Brotherhood, she says. I look down at the graffitti scratched on it. I've sat here so often with her that I almost have it memorized. I trace a heart surrounding two names, wondering if I'll ever scratch something on her in honor of her.

Winter...

**You know where I lay my head at night...**

I jog through the park. It's cold. I can see my breath. The freshly fallen snow crunches beneath my feet. I walk through this park every day, but today is a day to run. He'll be here today.

He's as predictable as the seasons. Every week, on the same day, he comes here. Sometimes I get up the courage to run past him, sometimes not. Today, I've resolved to talk to him.

As I expected, he's already sitting there. His eyes are focused on the patch of trees just behind his sketchpad. His pencil never stops moving. I sit down next to him. He doesn't seem to notice. "Hi," I say, and despite my nerves, I manage not to throw a like in there.

He pauses for an instant. "Um, hello..." Then he redoubles with a will, seeming determined to not be distracted.

I watch him draw for a minute, then I speak. I'm not a silent creature. "I've noticed something. Every Saturday you come here, sit down, and sketch the same set of trees. It doesn't seem special. Why do you do it?"

He smiles now, albeit faintly. "Do you see the trees?"

"Yes..."

"I do not think you do," he responds. He moves his pad, revealing a fuller view of the trees. "If you did, you would see the changes. Inifinitesimal to you, yes, but still changes. I come here once a week because that is my spare time. I could come here every day and not sketch the same thing."

He replaces his pad and flips a few pages back. "This was three weeks ago. There was snow, but not as much." He flips another page. "Two... One... Do you see?"

I nod, and his smile widens. Then he quickly looks away. "I am sorry. I am talking too much."

I feel like banging my head against the wall... or bench, as it were. "You aren't talking _enough_," I reply.

I stare at her, confused. She seems aggravated. By what? I am afraid I will never be able to understand her.

Then she shakes her head, looks away, throws her hands in the air. She looks back, smiling a little bit. "How are we supposed to get to know each other if you won't talk?"

I blink. _She wants to get to know me?_ "Um..."

She sighs again. I return my concentration to my drawing, wondering what she'll do now. I don't know what she thinks of me. I don't mean to come off as cold or rude, but she is so... different from other girls I've met. Not that I've met many, but her... well, she acts like nothing bothers her. She probes and smiles and acts bouncy. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and is the most innocent person I've ever met.

A wry smile tips up the corner of her face, then she stands up and walks off a distance. I look up. I do _not_ want her to go. She waves, and then makes a "pay-no-attention-to-me" gesture. I blink again, then go back to drawing. A few moments later, I get hit in the face with a snowball. I look up.

She's standing there, smirking. "Maybe I've been just spending too much time with Kurt..." she says. "But that _is_ usually a good way to provoke people." She throws another one, just missing me. "Warning shot. You gonna defend yourself or what?"

"Um..." I stand.

She's already ready, with another missile. "You have thirty seconds to retaliate before I declare all-out war."

I smile, tentatively.

"Twenty..."

I scoop one up.

"Very nice. Now then... Have at it!"

The fight that ensues is short but furious, both of us ending up covered in snow. She is laughing now, leaning against a tree, a half-formed ball in her hands. "You're good at this."

"I have had practice."

She walks over, dropping the snowball. She is a foot shorter than I am. She reaches up and touches my cheek, then quickly pulls back, as if burned. "I should probably, like, get going. Stuff to, like, do." She blushes, flustered, and backs up a few steps.

"I enjoyed this, " I hear myself saying. "You know where to find me."

She nods.

I sit back down. "It would be pleasing to have a human subject for once..."

(I do believe that's that. The Kitty/Piotr section got a little jokey, but that's because I'm tired... Ah, well, review.)


End file.
